


Be x Or x Not

by bluphacelia



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Ghosts, M/M, Mystery, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluphacelia/pseuds/bluphacelia
Summary: It is the summer before the fated Hunter Exam. Gon is furiously trying to figure out ways to catch the Lord of the Lake. However, everything changes with a shipwreck.





	1. Part 1 - Whale Island: Summer 1998

**Author's Note:**

  * For [desertmint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/desertmint/gifts).



> This was a fic I've been writing on and off for a while. I still love HxH, when will the anime come back from the war. The second chapter is written and I'll post it in the next week or so!
> 
> Edit: the lovely [thegirlwithmanynames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwithmanynames) helped me with editing! Thank you so much for reading through this.

“I’m leaving, Mito-san!” Gon calls out as he yanks the front door open, fishing pole against his shoulder. Something clatters in the kitchen and before Gon can spring out into the sweltering mid-morning heat, Mito’s voice stops him.

“Wait!”

Gon turns, sweat forming at his temple as he props up against the door. Wiping it away with his hand, he twists back, tracking Mito as she appears from the kitchen. A strange anxious energy pulls at him, making him rock to his toes and then to his heels. The urge to run tugs at him, but he holds the impulse in check.

She’s holding a small bundle in her hands as she approaches. “Here you go,” she smiles, giving the bundle to Gon. “Your lunch. Now, don’t forget to finish your studies for tomorrow. You’ll need to work on your exams if you want to pass.”

It’s old news, stale and tiring. How could he possibly think about school? Not with the looming deadline for the next Hunter Exam! He’d promised though, promised to study just as Mito-san had promised he could partake if he captured the Lord of the Lake. So he smiles. “I’ll be back before sundown, Mito-san! Thank you for lunch!” He chases the words out the door.

The heat seeps into him; the damp jungle air clinging as though a second skin. After his initial burst of energy, he finds his run slowing to a jog and then to a stop at the bottom of the hill, right before the forest proper. Insects buzz around him as his eyes dart to the fork in the road. If he continues down, he’ll find himself at the tepid pools near the center of the small island, mandrakes crisscrossing the water and the huge fish awaiting him in the depths.

There’s a short burst of cool air and he glances down the other road. This one leads to the town and the sea beyond. Gon peers at the sky, shadowing his eyes against the bright glare; not a single cloud. The air crackles, stifling. It won’t rain anytime soon.

He makes up his mind, feet already pounding against the well packed dirt.

* * *

The docks stink of fish. Even with the market long gone, the smell lingers. Dock workers hose the wood planks by the gallon to get rid of the waste the best they can. An empty box clatters down onto the ground as it joins a couple others waiting for a good rinse. 

“Morning Gon!” One of the familiar fishermen holds his hand up in greeting and Gon mimics the gesture. “Not going for the Lord of the Lake today?”

“Too hot!” Gon yells and continues his casual jog through the quiet main street.

No one else tries to stop him as he follows the road toward the bay. It rises with the shape of the land and, as he crests the hill, Gon glimpses the shining sea beneath. It’s beautiful. The wind catches his shirt, makes it flutter around him. The air is noticeably cooler now, the breeze refreshing. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs. He’d definitely made the right choice.

The day goes by quick. He joins a pack of kids on the beach, splashing in the high tide. It’s mid-afternoon, the sun still a good two hand widths from the horizon, when the other kids leave. They yell their goodbyes and Gon waves in reply. “Come play again!”

He lowers his hand as he watches them leave. The others are from the mainland, kids who come and go as the tides do. It’s strange, watching them disappear, but Gon pushes it aside, plopping down onto the sand to eat the sandwiches Mito-san had packed. He feels recharged, but not ready to go back, oh no. Going back would mean books. Books filled with writing and history and math he didn’t quite understand. No. Here was better.

Gon licks the last crumbs off his fingers, slings his fishing pole over his shoulder, and goes to grab his shoes with his other hand. His bare feet sink into the sand, toes wiggling as he walks along the beach. The ground turns rocky, cliffs growing higher above the waves. He stops to put on his sneakers; climbs.

He knows these shores as well as anyone raised here, so when he glimpses the mast poking out of the small inlet, there’s a moment of disquiet.

It had been nearly a month since he’d stopped by the cove, and there had been talk about a shipwreck, now that he thinks about it. Mito’s “Don’t go! Be careful!” rang in his ears. He hadn’t bothered checking it out, too preoccupied by the elusive fish. He picks up speed, feet slapping against the smooth rock. The ship looms before him, mast broken and the hull yards under the spray, dark-wood planks disappearing into the depths. It’s shallow, he can make out the shape of the ship easy.

His shoes clatter onto the ground. It’s strange. This side of the island is shallows, rocks and sand beds and generally a bad place for ships larger than a rowing boat. Why had it come here, when there was a perfectly good dock just moments away?

Gon glances around, a strange anxiety simmering deep in his chest. He drops the fishing pole next to his shoes and walks to the edge. That small Mito voice in the back of his head fades as he licks his lips and squats.

Pale blue water laps against the cliff with a barely there scratch of sand. The tide is sinking, he knows, as he watches the sun dip lower toward the horizon. He shifts and sits, legs dangling over the precipice. It’s not that far, Gon guesses. A five-ten minute climb, at most. The rock is rough under his palm, more jagged here, but sturdy, climbable. Even with the ocean spray.

He’s halfway down the cliff on an impulse.

The last few feet are the trickiest, rock riddled with slimy algae, his bare toes trying to find purchase. He glances down then pushes back, landing calf high. Pivoting, the water splashes up to his knees. The cove opens in front of him. The huge U-shape of the cliff dwarfs the cove, the ship, leaving the single mast to mark the spot.

Swimming out to the ship wasn’t hard at all, the water quiet and the current nonexistent. He grasps a hand out to the smooth wood of the mast, still surprisingly solid under his palm. Gon looks up. The jagged edge is clear where the mast snapped in half. Taking a breath, he dives, legs kicking, propelling him faster, a guiding hand on the mast, the other scooping water. The ship looms ahead almost immediately. Blurry, but oddly beautifully preserved in the water; the dark shape of the hull, the helm. There are solid barrels still tied to the deck and a piece of cloth floats from—yes, okay, that’s where the rest of the mast had gone, cleaved in twain.

Gon peers down as he floats suspended a few yards above the planks, takes it all in. A burst of bubbles escape him, lungs squeezing in warning, so he swims back up, up, up. He breaks the surface, gasps for breath, eyes seeking the sun—now much lower against the horizon. His breath quiets. He could still dive to the deck, he guesses, before the sun dips below. He’s not stupid, he knows the ocean will call back its own if he stays too long.

Gon dives anyway.

This time Gon doesn’t just look, legs kicking, arms carving a way through the water, until he can touch the fine algae coated wood grain. He swims for the barrels. And boxes, he notes, now he’s closer. The netting is still tight around the cargo, the only hint of decay the slime coating everything. Gon gives the rope another tug, but it’s unyielding in his grasp; the only thing he does is startle a few fish into flight.

The sun’s rays kiss deep, the ocean swallowing up the oranges and gold. He knows it’s time to swim up again, but the burn in his lungs isn’t there yet. Not quite.

“Hey.”

The single syllable is so clear it leaves an echo in his ears. Gon whips his head around, an involuntary spout of bubbles escaping in his wake. He clamps his mouth closed, a sudden cold filling his core as he flails for a moment before getting his limbs back under control. Propelling himself up and looking down, he only just manages to glimpse a wisp of white, a pale face and sharp purple eyes as he dashes up, up toward the ever fading light.

He crests the surface right as the sun dips down, orange, reds and a then a sudden flash of green before it’s gone, the mare pinks lingering. This is bad. Really bad.

Gon swims toward the dark face of the cliff. His limbs shake, lungs still not recovered as he breathes in half air, half sea spray. Autopilot overtakes him, pushing him on without his direction. Pain, numbing pain and the single-minded instinct for survival pulls him up to the disappearing stretch of beach sinking back into the waves. Watching the small twinkling of stars freckle the sky above, he shivers. Slowly the sea becomes a mirror, reflecting nothing but darkness, ever black stillness. His lungs roar within him, mind a muddled mess of white noise. His ears ring with it.

Gon leans his back against the cliff. It’s solid, grounding. Gon waits for his world to stop shaking, the quiet taking hold. The last of the sun is gone. The ship is gone. Those eyes are gone.

With sudden aplomb, Gon turns and climbs. Climbs and climbs until his fingers catch nothing and he pulls himself up only to sit, legs dangling down once more. Breathes. His head is clearing. His lungs rattle less. The calm catches him and the only reminder of what he’s done is the wet clothes, clinging in the summer night.

Mito-san will be angry. He grabs his shoes, his fishing pole. Goes home.


	2. Part 2 - The next morning

“Did you sleep all right?” It’s Grandma, her usual smile full of nostalgia and a hint of sadness, pushing a bowl of porridge towards Gon. He grabs it, fingers listless on the spoon. Mito-san was gone, to the fish market for work. The lecture from the previous night was postponed as Gon, out of breath and—according to Mito—in mild shock, told them about the boy in the water.

A search party was called and Gon was left behind after pointing out the cove on a map to one of the deputy police. It was well past midnight when they’d returned. There was nothing to find, no dead, but the area was to be sectioned off for further inquiry.

Gon stirs the porridge around his plate.

“Your aunt Mito asked me to make sure you studied today,” Grandma says as she stacks the few plates on the table. It’s conversational, but the tone makes Gon look up at her. “But it’s such a nice day outside. It would be a shame to miss it.”

She toddles off into the kitchen. Gon can hear the water run and the porridge suddenly disappears into his mouth. The chair clatters back, barely staying upright as he dashes to set his dishes onto the counter by the sink. “Thanks, Granny!”

Gon kisses his Grandmother’s cheek and speedwalks out—Mito-san’s “no running in the house!” echoing in his head—but a sharp inhale stops him. He turns to look at his Grandma. 

“Mito said she’d be back a little after lunch with whatever news she has of the sunken ship. I hope you can study well until then!”

Gon grins and with a “Yes, Granny!” he’s off to gather his shoes. He grabs his trusty green pair, stopping quickly to grab his snorkeling gear from the closet. Taking the quickest route across the island, he rushes toward the cove.

There is a truck off the cliff. Gon falters. 

“Hey Gon!” It’s the deputy he’d spoken to the night before. “It isn’t safe! Does Mito-san know you’re here?”

The conversation stalls and ends with a solid promise to not interfere, but he can’t fight the disappointment tugging at his chest. His feet drag on the way back, gear banging against his side, and he goes up to his room without a single word.

The week continues, hot as ever, and then the rains come, making fishing impossible. It keeps him inside with his books, but he watches the rain paint streams across the window. The ship still plagues him, haunts his thoughts, his dreams. Those purple eyes in the dark deep.

It’s another morning around ten when Mito-san comes home from the dock. Water runs down her umbrella as she shakes it before stepping inside. Gon watches from the dining room table, pencil tapping listlessly against the book he’s supposed to be reading.

“Good news!” Mito-san says after hanging her coat to dry and kicking off her boots. “They’ll be raising the ship in the cove! The owner of the wreck wants the bad press to end, so he’s getting a crew out here in a few weeks. Well, if the rain lets up, anyway.”

There it is, Gon can feel his chance slipping by—like grains of rice through his fingers. It’s after lunch and he slips out, fishing pole against his shoulder. He doesn’t go to the mandrake pools, no. Gon finds himself back at the cove, empty but for a police perimeter around the cliff. The rain persists, tip-tapping against the leaves of the forest behind him. He goes to the edge, peers down.

“Who are you?” The cove doesn’t respond. The ship’s mast is hard to see with the waves, and minutes go by before he spots it. A strange emotion overwhelms him as he peers up at the thunderous sky. A wordless cry leaves him only for the wind to catch hold as the rain continues to pelt his cheeks. He closes his mouth with a snap, turns to the forest looming over him, familiar and safe.

Another two days pass before the rains ease. The sky is steel gray clouds and there is a wet scent in the air outside, salty with brine.

“I’m leaving!” he calls out at the door. There is a pack on his back this time; sandwiches from Grandma and snorkeling gear safely stowed away.

The ocean below his feet is calm even as it roils just past the cove’s entrance. It’s low tide and Gon can see the small strip of beach going from one edge of the cove to the other, the deck of the ship shimmering out of sight.

The climb down is easy with the rope ladder the rescue services left behind. He’s in his swimming trunks, pack and clothes on the embankment above. Adjusting his goggles, he can see to the bottom even with the low light filtering through the clouds. The ship looks about the same as before, the deck clear and the doors inside swinging open in the current. A school of silverfish darts past, taking shelter in the cove’s calm.

The day wanes as Gon swims, dives, searches. He’s exhausted when he pulls himself out in the late afternoon. The climb up leaves him weary, muscles shaking as he sits, legs swinging over the cliff face, eating his sandwiches and drinking the sweet juice. He wipes his mouth. Gets back to it.

He swims until the sky darkens and his stomach tells him it’s dinner time. One more. He thinks, dives, dives deep, hand on the mast to guide him as he holds his breath. There is a flash of sun above him but it’s weak, barely there.

“Don’t leave.” A voice pierces the water, impossibly clear. Familiar.

Gon waves his arms, spinning himself around, and there he is. The boy. His white hair is a tangled mess, eyes dark, clothes darker. Gon steadies himself, shakes his head. No, he wouldn’t leave again. He wants to speak. His chest burns, his fingers are tingling, but all he wants to do is open his mouth, the words trapped inside wishing to be let free. Those eyes turn melancholy, the happiness draining as quickly as the oxygen from Gon’s lungs.

“Go on.”

There is a sting in his eyes as he swims up toward the fading light. Breaching the surface leaves him coughing, pulling air in, the spots and white lights alternating in his peripheral as he clings to the mast.

He manages the climb up with pure strength of will. The trek through the jungle is hard, crossing the threshold to the house on the hill almost impossible. Unbearable.

It’s at dinner that night when Mito tells him about the men at the docks. Important people from the city proper, the mainland, had come to inspect the wreckage. It was now clear there had been no one left at the ship, at least. The cargo had been emptied—it explained the missing boxes.

“The rains should end soon,” Mito-san says as she passes the oven-baked fish. “Prime tourist season.” She seems pleased at the prospect, a smile tugging at her lips, a gleam in her eye.

The sun comes out the next day, the beams filtering through the loose blinds of Gon’s bedroom. He wakes up to the smell of fresh bread and wet grass. He leaves again, pack and fishing pole; passes through the village this time. Listens to the fishmongers and goes to hug Mito-san as she helps sort through that morning’s bounty.

“The men from the city should be here in a couple days along with the tourists. The town will be full of people again!” Mito-san smiles and Gon only just ducks away from a fishy hair ruffle. He promises to be home for dinner.

It’s already nearing noon as he gets to the cove. There’s a car there once again, and he skirts around, spying as a pair of divers survey the site. It takes half the afternoon but the duo finally leave, satisfied with whatever they’d found. Gon waits until they are out of sight and follows suit. He pushes the rope ladder down, down until he‘s submerged up to his calf. The water is crystal clear, calm, serene. His reflection smiles back at him, hair wild. The waters are still, the small ripples of his movements echoing out until they too disappear.

Sunlight is his friend this time as he dives into the shallows. It’s beautiful, sun spots, colors of the fish, pure life. But no boy.

Gon watches the sun, waits for it to dip, wondering if this’ll be the last chance he gets as he swims down. He doesn’t even make it to the deck.

The boy is there, in the water, before him. Gon holds out his hand, palm up. A sign, he hopes.

It gets him a smile. It warms those eyes, shimmering purple spilling into the dark. Then the boy is close, hand outstretched. It strikes Gon, the strangeness of it all, the unmoving clothes, the hair unbothered by the current.

“You came back,” the boy speaks, and no bubbles burst forth. The hand drops, their fingertips brush. The words are strange, unnecessary. What does he mean? Of course Gon would come back. The burning in his lungs is secondary, not a part of him anymore. Not when he has this.

The boy moves. Lips brush against Gon’s ear. “I’ve missed you.”

He’s gone. Gon twists around, bubbles bursting in his wake. Nothing. The boy is gone. Again.

The scolding he gets for his wet clothes washes over him, as does the warm shower he can barely feel. The boy’s ghostly touch lingers on his hand, his cheek, his ear, warmer than the scalding water.

They come for the wreck and it’s gone in two weeks, mast and all. Gon goes back twice at the moment the sun dips down the horizon, but never sees the boy again. So he starts to fish, Mito-san’s promise itching at the back of his neck as he sits on the tall mandrake roots, watching the never-moving bob of his lure. There are days when he thinks he’ll succeed, only for the line to snap, followed by disappointment. His books lie forgotten now; only the Lord of the Lake fills his existence.

When the day he catches the Lord of the Lake comes, Mito-san’s face burns into his mind even as his feet itch to run to the nearest ship and leave. Go. Escape. The burning sensation doesn’t let up with the promise, it doesn’t let up as he walks up those planks of wood for the first time onto the deck of a proper ship on its way to the mainland. He smiles as a flick of lightning crosses the horizon. There is no reason for it, but he does.

It’s easy to make friends, as so many of them are off to the Hunter Exam. The newness dulls the ache for a moment, it becomes easier to breathe. Easier, until the moment he steps into the cavernous room of participants and he sees the boy. Their eyes meet and Gon’s greeted with a smile and a handshake and a name. Killua.

He’s drowning again.

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://bluphacelia.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/blu_tweets). I post works in progress etc, but I'm more active on Twitter if you want to come say hello!


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